I don't know if any of my fellow writers out there are the same as me, but I find that if I don't challenge myself frequently (with courses, workshops, writing prompts, etc), then my ambition grows stagnant. I don't feel the urge or the inspiration to write, and my time gets taken over by other things. Suddenly, I'll realize it's been weeks, even months, since I wrote anything.
So, in an effort to prevent laziness and boredom from taking over, I've decided to take part in Alice Kuipers Wattpad Workshop. She's doing a series, the first of which deals with inspiration and writer's block. We're only one week in but I already love it. Our writing prompt for this week was to write from the perspective of someone who's had a brain injury in the part of the brain that controls imagination and ideas. I had so much fun writing it that I thought I'd share it with you. Let me know what you think!
The clock is ticking in the corner. I look at it, try to feel something for the sound it makes. I can remember vaguely a sensation I used to feel when I heard it, the way it used to stir things inside me, things I can now no longer recall.
I sit up and shake my head, turning to stare out the window instead. The rain is pelting down against the window, showering the grass and sidewalk in waves. The sky is grey. The clouds heavy, hovering just above the trees. An optical illusion, I tell myself, as I watch the rain fall.
The feeling of familiarity remains. Rain used to create a similar reaction to the ticking of the clock. But there is no stirring inside, no rush of emotions. Instead, it is simply pretty.
The drops of rain thud against the roof, the percussive sound joining with the clock. Occasionally, the crack of thunder adds its bellow and I sit, listening as I stare out the window.
James should have been home by now. He said he's be home from the gym by four o'clock. His workouts had grown longer and more frequent since I'd come home from hospital, one of the many, almost imperceptible changes in our relationship since the accident.
I would catch him watching me with a strange look in his eye, one I didn't recognize. I know I'd changed. He'd told me so. And there were the feelings of longing, of loss for something I couldn't identify.
I realized it was possible that he was no longer at the gym, that he'd never gone there to begin with. I knew there must be a reason why he wasn't home when he said he'd be. But I couldn't for the life of me think of what it could be. So, I sit and wait, wondering why I feel so empty inside.
There we have it! As always, your thoughts and comments are welcome in the comments section (and are greatly appreciated!) I hope you enjoyed my little attempt, and are enjoying this slightly fiction heavy week. Have a great day!